


The Throne Room

by campsearchlight



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chapter 13, I changed the ending, Major plot spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campsearchlight/pseuds/campsearchlight
Summary: A different ending in a different life.





	

Prompto's knees shake, a death grip on his pistol whitening his knuckles. He lumbers to the steps leading up to the entrance of the Citadel. Fights against high-powered daemons had always been a piece of cake with Noct and his magical arsenal. However, losing Noct to his purpose and gaining a decade of age inhibits Prompto's fighting by way of slightly slower reflexes, compared to how quick and nimble he'd been at twenty. 

He manages––as he's always done––to stay alive, and that's all that matters. 

He collapses, panting, and flicks his wrist, sending his pistol back to the astral realm from which they summon their weapons. 

"Prompto!" Gladio hollers, jogging to Prompto with Ignis close behind. "You okay, bud?"

"Sleepy," Prompto says, rolling onto his back. The edges of the steps dig into his back, but he doesn't care. He's happy to be lying down and able to rest for a minute. "You guys okay?"

"As always," Ignis assures, taking a seat next to Prompto. "Does anyone require a potion?"

Gladio remains standing, his arms folded over his chest, his gaze aimed up at the Citadel's facade. "No. Do you think it's... done?"

"Most likely." Ignis sighs, removing his glasses and rubbing his temples. 

Prompto closes his eyes against the sky. He doesn't want to think about what they will encounter in the throne room. "Can we wait a few minutes? I'm still catching my breath."

"Yes... Yes, we have time."

Gladio sits on Prompto's other side. "A lot of it."

They go quiet for the longest time, and Prompto is glad for it. He doesn't want to reminisce; they did enough of that at the camp last night. He doesn't want to picture Noct dead. He doesn't want to wonder what life will be like when the sun finally comes up. Joy––and then grief. The sun is shining, but his best friend is dead. 

Embarrassingly, a tear falls down his face. He wipes it away with the back of his glove before Gladio can see it. 

But, Gladio does see it. He nudges his elbow against Prompto's shoulder. "Hey. You know how the three of us spent the last ten years without Noct? We can do it again, and again, and again, and––" He cuts off with a cough and leans forward, his fingers lacing across the back of his head. It surprises Prompto to see Gladio's shoulders shake. Is he crying?

"Gladio..." Ignis must hear something Prompto doesn't. "You're completely right, you know. We will push on, as we've already been doing. This time, with the sun up."

Gladio rises to his feet, aggressively wiping under his eyes. "I can't wait anymore. Let's get this over with. Prompto, get up."

Reluctantly, Prompto gets to his feet with the help of Ignis. 

"It's almost over," Ignis says as they climb the steps behind Gladio. "Just a little while longer."

Prompto nods, forgetting that Ignis can't see him. So, he touches Ignis's shoulder and repeats on a sigh, "Almost over."

The trio heads through the lobby, toward the elevator bank. The ride up doesn't take long enough; twenty seconds or so, and they're on the same floor as the throne room. When the elevator doors part, none of them make a move to exit. Only when the doors begin to close does Gladio throw out his hand and stop them. Still, they don't leave. 

Prompto's chest feels tight, like a snake is wrapping around his heart. Noct should be in there, destroying Ardyn once and for all. 

"Well," Ignis says, his voice cracking on the word. He clears his throats and tries again. "Well... we should go in, shouldn't we?"

"Yep," Gladio grunts. He is the first to step out of the elevator. "Yep. C'mon, guys."

Together, as with just about everything they've done the past decade, they head into the throne room. It looks vastly different than when they were here last––a lifetime ago––receiving King Regis's blessing to leave for Altissia, for Noct's wedding, for things that were promised and never came true. 

The wall to the left of the throne is completely blown out, the moon shining down upon the throne like a celestial spotlight. The floor is dusty and made treacherous by all the rubble. The throne itself, also dusty, is somehow still intact. And, lying prone upon the floor in front of the throne, there is Noct. 

The snake in Prompto's chest gives a fatal squeeze. "Wh––Is he...?" He doesn't need to ask; he already knows. 

Gladio takes precisely one step forward, falters for a moment, and then sprints up the stairs to the right of the throne. When he gets to Noct, he kneels, his palm settling on the king's back. After a moment, his other hand comes up, the back of his wrist pressed against his mouth. He looks down at Prompto and Ignis, and he shakes his head. "He's gone."

King Noctis, the last of the royal line, is truly dead. 

Prompto's knees give out and strike the floor, pebbles digging painfully into his knees. Tears flow freely down his face, but he makes no move to hide them. He knew this would happen. They all knew. But, knowing didn't make it hurt any less. 

Ignis sighs heavily, then hiccups with a single sob. He turns away, inhaling deeply and evenly through his nose, over and over. 

Gladio arches over Noct's body, his shoulders shaking again. 

Prompto staggers to his feet and crosses to the stairs. After all they had been through, the least he could do is say goodbye. 

Climbing those stairs––Prompto thinks it's the hardest thing he's ever had to do, but he does it anyway, forces himself to get to the throne. 

It's even worse up close. If it weren't for the absolute stillness, Noct would look as if he's sleeping. The sight of it brings back memories of those months after Insomnia fell, camping and staying in cheap motels––and Noct sleeping without interruption until Ignis whipped the blanket off of him. 

Prompto kneels on the other side of Noct and also places his hand on Noct's back. He's still warm. The realization that it must have happened just before they got there is a vicious stab in Prompto's gut. As if he could have stopped it if they'd gotten there minutes earlier. He bows his head over Noct. 

The most horrible thing about this, Prompto thinks, is that they _just_ got him back. Ten years of waiting, thinking he was dead––and then he showed up in Hammerhead last night. He looked different, of course. Older, just like the rest of them. But, he was the same Noct. Prompto was insanely glad to have him back. And then, the rug was ripped out from under his feet: Noct would have to die to get rid of Ardyn. 

_Die? You have to_ die _?_

_Yeah, looks like it._

How had he been so calm as he dropped that bomb on them? He hadn't been back a day, and he told them he had to leave them again tomorrow, permanently. Prompto had never felt such despair. 

"Iggy," Gladio calls, his voice rough from crying, "what do we do now?"

Ignis, his back to them, replies, "We wait for the sun to come up, and then..."

He doesn't continue, because they already know. Their first action will be to construct a Royal Tomb. For that reason alone, Prompto dreads the sun coming up. 

His fingers tighten around the silken material of Noct's short, asymmetrical cape. This happened too soon. If they'd had some more time with him when he came back, maybe it would have been easier to cope with losing him––or maybe it would have hurt even more. 

Gladio gets up and goes to where Ignis stands motionless by the doorway. The pair sits against the wall to await the sunrise. 

Prompto wonders briefly how long this will take. Hours? Days? Ten more years? He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that Noct doesn't begin to go cold. 

That's when something under his hand twitches. A muscle or something, Prompto isn't sure. His eyes fly open and stare hard at Noct's back. What was that? A post-death muscle spasm? A wave of nausea rolls over Prompto. He has to swallow hard to contain the bile that rises in his throat. 

Then, it happens again. 

"Uh..." Prompto leans over to inspect the side of Noct's face. His features are still uncomfortably blank. Prompto licks his lips and glances at Gladio and Ignis, neither of which are paying him any attention. He leans closer to Noct's ear and, feeling idiotic, whispers, "Noct?" 

No response. Prompto isn't sure why he was kind of expecting one. He straightens, a fresh bout of tears coming through. _Don't do this to yourself, Prompto. He's gone, dammit. Don't even think about––_

Prompto is one hundred percent sure of what happens next: Noct gasps dryly. Prompto flies backward, his back hitting the throne with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs. When Noct audibly inhales, Prompto flies back to his side, flipping the king onto his back. "Noct? Noct?!"

Gladio and Ignis bolt to their feet, a mixture of hope and confusion written on both of their faces. 

Noct's eyes open a fraction of an inch, and then he throws his arm over them with a groan. "Potion," he croaks. "I need... a potion."

"Ignis!" Prompto yells, his hand cupped unnecessarily around the side of his mouth. "Potion!" 

Ignis fumbles with his pack and hands a potion to Gladio, who doesn't hesitate in hurling it overhand at Prompto. 

Prompto yelps, somehow managing to catch the vial with one hand. He uncaps it and places the opening at Noct's bottom lip. 

The liquid flows into Noct's mouth. He rolls onto his side and coughs once, loudly. " _Damn_."

Prompto swallows hard. "N-Noct?"

Noct's eyes slide up to Prompto's face––and a cocky grin spreads across his mouth. "That's 'Your Majesty' to you."

Prompto scoffs. Unbelievable. The dude just came back from the dead, and he's already cracking jokes. "You––you _ass_. We thought you had to die!"

"I did die, but no one said I had to _stay_ dead. Help me sit up."

As Prompto pulls him upright, Gladio and Ignis rush up the stairs and crowd around them. There is a group hug with Noct squished in the center. 

"Jeez, guys," Noct chuckles. "It's like you missed me or something."

Ignis holds them all tighter. "Stop talking."

For once, Noct shuts up and allows himself to be held by them all. 

Prompto can't accurately describe this feeling. It's somewhere along the spectrum of overwhelming elation. 

"I can't believe this," Gladio mutters. "You weren't usually one for dramatics."

"Must've been something I picked up from Bahamut," Noct says. He pulls back to look at his friends, still grinning. "I mean, aren't you glad I'm alive?"

"Of course we are," Ignis says. "We're simply in shock. It will pass."

"Ah, well... Help me get up, will you?"

They all help in hauling him to his feet. He stands on wobbly legs and ends up throwing his arm around Prompto's neck to keep himself from falling down. Prompto wraps a supportive arm around Noct's middle. 

Gladio suddenly looks up, through the gaping hole in the wall. "Would you look at that?" 

Prompto and Noct turn and look up at the sky as it begins to turn pink. 

"Oh, wow," Prompto breathes. 

"What? Is it happening?" Ignis asks, a touch of annoyance in his tone. "Is the sun rising?" 

"Yeah, Ig," Noct confirms. "It's rising."

Together, they watch as the ten-year night turns to morning. 

"What happens now?" Prompto asks, his eyes sore from the abundance of light. 

"I––I wasn't planning for..." Ignis trails off, shaking his head. "Let's get some sleep first, and then we will discuss what our next move will be. Noct, can you walk?"

"Yeah, I'll be okay," Noct replies, his arm firmly around Prompto's neck. "You don't mind helping your king to his room, do you, Promp?"

Prompto rolls his eyes as they begin to make their way down the steps. "That's not funny."

Noct laughs anyway, because it is apparently funny to him. 

"Once he settles in as king, he'll stop," Gladio says. 

"Will I?" Noct laughs again. 

"I will drop you down these stairs," Prompto threatens. 

"I'm just messing with you, Prompto."

"Besides those jokes," Ignis says as they board the elevator, "that's not even your biggest problem, Prompto. You'll need to have proper Kingsglaive training."

"I thought you said we were going to get some sleep before we started talking about the next steps," Prompto says, cutting his eyes at the back of Ignis's head.

"Oh, that's right. I did say that. Oops."

"'Oops,' he says." Prompto scoffs. "I guess you'll settle in as the royal advisor just fine."

"He'd better. He's been training all his life for this," Noct says, reaching out and flicking Ignis's shoulder. "Right, Iggy?"

"I'm well-prepared, I assure you," Ignis says, adjusting his sunglasses. 

"Here we are," Gladio says, pushing open the door to Noct's old bedroom. 

Dust covers everything, but that hardly matters right now when they're all so exhausted. Gladio and Prompto remove the sullied blankets from the large bed, uncovering relatively clean sheets. They help Noct into bed, and then they spread out on the furniture: Gladio on the sofa, Ignis on the chaise lounge, and Prompto curled up on the overstuffed armchair by the window. 

Even with the curtains drawn, Prompto can see a sliver of glorious daylight. He stares at it until his eyelids can no longer stay open. 

"Have a good sleep, everyone," Ignis says, his voice low. "We have a lot of work to do this afternoon."

And there _will_ be an afternoon. Another night, too––but then another morning. And Noct will be there with them, leading the way, leading his country, as _he_ had been trained for all his life. 

"Hey, um..." Noct pauses, clears his throat. "Thanks. For everything. You guys really are the best."

Prompto can't wait to start rebuilding––with all four of them together, as it was meant to be.


End file.
